


you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

by disarmed



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Barebacking, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jedi Knights (Star Wars), Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but like actual knights as in medieval?, dragonslayer!rey, weredragon!kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmed/pseuds/disarmed
Summary: "They say it is a terrible beast, with a hide like night so you may never see it coming." Ben’s voice has dropped and the air in the tavern between them feels thicker and heavier than before. "They all fear it," he continues in his trance-like tone. “It cannot be heard, for it attacks only when the storm is at its strongest, when the rain and sleet and snow marry together." Rey inhales, sharp and short. Ben leans forward. "They say that it is wicked, with eyes that know more than any beast should."He is so close now, Rey can feel his cool breath on her face."They say," whispers Ben, in a voice like silk, "that it is really a man."or, the weredragon!au that no one asked for.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 128





	you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

‘Tis a fair sized township, Hoth, lined with towering archways weighted by the snow, and cobblestone paths made slippery with melted ice. 

It’s cold, of course, as Rey’s visit is set in the heart of the land’s winter. The rumors are Hoth has never seen the months of spring, let alone summer, when the frosts recede and the warmth of new season grasps at the hillside. Rey doesn’t put much stock in rumors, though in fairness, she has spent little by the way of time in Hoth. 

Curious onlookers peek up at them from beneath their hoods and fur shrouds, and Rey nods to them in greeting. The people of Hoth are quiet, cautious things; a mix of features and colors as they merge together in the last foothold of the Republic. One can see why a dragon would upset them more than the usual. 

"They look scared, and hungry." Finn’s mouth is set in a tight, hard line as he surveys them. 

Rey frowns. “They always do.” 

Here on the outskirts of the city the livestock is scarce and the faces of children sharp with hunger. Rey passes a girl whose homespun shift drowns her thin frame, and she pauses to reach into her pack for her last bit of food. An apple, slightly bruised, but still good. She hands it to the little girl with a smile. 

"Thank you," says the child, eyes wide and round, before biting into the fruit greedily.

Beside her, Finn lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. She smiles back at him. 

Rey thinks of her own aching stomach, and then a soft bed. She sighs and continues walking. Food and ale will come, but first she has a Queen to see, and coin to collect. 

  
  
  


Nearer to the city it becomes busier, people trading and bustling back and forth. The castle sits across a frozen moat in shining form, turrets and towers gleaming in the sun. It is smaller than most castles Rey has seen in her travels, and like most of the buildings here, the roof tops are sharply slanted to protect from snowfall. 

The way is barred by heavy shouldered guards with long tipped spears. Rey is intrigued by their choice of weaponry, and while she doesn’t step closer, she does lean forward on her toes to get a better look. 

"You fight with spears?" she asks the guards, eyes traveling the length of the weapon. "Why?" 

The guard closest to her gives her a slanted, suspicious look. "You aren't from around here?" It sounds rhetorical, but Rey nods anyway. 

"Jakku," supplies Finn. 

The guard grunts, slightly derisive, but Rey cannot blame him. Jakku is a tasteless, desert wasteland. "Your beasts are different to ours; our hunting is done from a distance, and we are less likely to lose a limb." 

Rey considers this. "Yet, you haven’t been able to best the dragon that plagues your people?" 

Some would have taken offense to this, but the guard looks nonplussed. "No, that beast is of another breed, a wicked one." The two guards share a look, and Rey catches it, looking at them expectantly. Both men look furtive. 

"Come," coaxes Finn, smiling his most charming smile. "What is it they say of this dragon?"

"They say it has the brains of a man," spits the guard on Rey’s left, who had not been so forthcoming to begin with. "That it tricks and lies. It is a Kingslayer. They call it Kylo Ren." 

Rey has heard of the King Consort’s death; that is mostly why she is here.

Finn however, looks intrigued. "It speaks?" Admittedly, Rey’s curiosity is also piqued, though she is less inclined to believe rumors; if what the men say is true, this will be the first dragon she’s come across to speak their own tongue.

"No," says the first guard angrily. "It’s all lies and nonsense, to scare each other over a tank of ale." He thumps the butt of his spear into the ground. "It is wily, but it is a beast, and we look forward to the day you slay it." He speaks to Finn, assuming that he is the slayer heard about in tales. Rey says nothing; she is used to the misconception. 

Eventually the guard steps aside, as does his partner, allowing Rey and Finn access across the wooden bridge to the castle. 

  
  
  
  
  


Queen Leia Organa is a woman that would have been striking in her youth, and though age has lined her face and greyed her hair, there are still the remnants of her beauty that have not faded; her eyes for one, though they seem sad. She sits passively on her throne as Rey approaches, Finn not two steps behind her. Beside the Queen sits the empty seat of the late King Consort, His Majesty Han Solo. To the Queen’s right stands a tall, heavy set man with a dense orange-brown beard and long hair; well over six feet and carrying a broadsword so large Rey wonders if she could even lift it.She also notes the crossbow slung across his back; an interesting weapon choice.

The Queen is garbed not in her customary gowns as Rey had expected, but in fine militant wear. Her outfit does not defer Rey from paying her the proper respects. 

"Your Highness," says Rey, formally, as she drops to one knee, Finn doing the same. 

The Queen is silent for a moment. "Rey of Jakku," she says, afterwards, in a voice that is strong and rich. "It is not often I see women of your profession; I thank you for coming to our aid." 

Rey smiles benignly. "I am aware that it is uncommon, Your Highness." 

"What weapon do you fight with?" The Queen sounds intrigued as she eyes the sword slung across Rey’s back.

"I know it is not the first weapon of choice for many," admits Rey, "but this blade has not seen me lose a battle yet." Her blade is not typical of the knights’ preferred broadswords or battle axes. The hilt is round and the blade long and slim, too long for a regular weapon - there is no guard, either. Most irregularly, the steel of the blade is stained an iridescent blue. 

The Queen nods, but her mouth drops into a frown. "There is always a first time, Rey of Jakku." Before Rey can even decide if that’s an insult, Leia waves a hand and the tall, double-armed man at her side is striding towards Rey. "My guard, Chewbacca, brings you half the coin now," explains Leia. “This dragon is unlike any you have faced before,” she says gravely, “it’s allegiance lies with that of the First Order, and we can not allow it to continue it’s terror.”

Rey takes the heavy bag with a muttered thanks, and Chewbacca inclines his head and strides back to his Queen"s side. 

“I mean no disrespect,” hedges Rey slowly, “but I have yet to meet a dragon who cares for politics more than it’s next meal.” 

Leia sighs. “I would have said the same, had I not seen the chaos it has inflicted these last months. Where our men brace for battle, it appears. Where we store supplies, it destroys them. I don’t know much of these creatures, but I have seen intelligence in the eyes of this one, and it would be your downfall to disregard that. It has a name, Kylo Ren, though I am loathe to use the title myself.” 

Rey is surprised by the Queen’s honest forthcoming; usually, as is common in this part of the negotiation, most Majesties either threaten her, or bid her start the quest with eager anticipation lapping at their words. Queen Leia does neither, and seems unconcerned with the price.

“A dragon with a name,” says Rey slowly, “is definitely not something I have encountered before.” 

"When the job is done, and the head of the beast lays at my feet, you will get the rest." Leia’s words are heavy and weighted, resignation and a strange sadness lacing them. “I would give it to you all now, but my purse is light with the needs of the people.” She pauses, and her next words are almost apologetic. “A guarantee, also, if you will.”

Rey nods, unfazed and also pleased that she would see any coin upfront. "Agreed, Your Highness. I understand." She steps aside, looking back at Finn, "Your Highness, my friend, Finn, he has important information regarding the enemy state of the First Order." 

At the Queen’s sharp, suspicious look, Finn clears his throat. “I’ve defected from their ranks,” he offers by way of clarity, and when Chewbacca steps forward Rey matches his step. 

“He remains my loyal friend and is under my protection,” she says firmly, “but he wishes to help you in whichever way he can.”

Leia’s heavy expression lifts and Chewbacca lowers his guard. "A dragon slayer and a spy," she comments ruefully. "How lucky are we for you both to grace us with your presence this day." Rey doesn't know what to say. The Queen smiles at her silence, though Rey senses no malice in her amusement. "In the meantime, our resources are yours, take what you will to ensure the job is done. You may speak to one of my men regarding your lodging." She waves a hand, and a tan skinned man with curled, dark hair, steps forward to greet them. "Commander Dameron will answer any further questions you have regarding the beast."

Rey clasps the Commander’s outstretched hand. "If you’ll follow me."

  
  
  
  
  


Poe Dameron is an excellent commander and an attractive man. Rey ponders the latter after he’s given her a complete history on the dragon’s brief habitual habits from the last few months. He also directs her to a local inn that serves good food and a warm bed - he also doesn't query her decision to decline the Queen's hospitality. He offers to accompany her on her journey tomorrow, with however many men she wishes, but Rey declines. He does not push her further. 

Rey accompanies him to the roadside, where he mounts his paint gelding with practised ease. “I’d like to see you return, Rey of Jakku,” he tells her amicably as he gathers the reins. 

She reaches up to stroke the round cheek of his horse. “I’ve returned from every mission yet.” She lets the animal bunt her chest with its head affectionately; if this behaviour is out of the ordinary for the Commander’s war horse he does not comment on it. Eventually, Poe tugs on the reins and starts the ride back to the castle.

Inside, Rey is grateful for a meal of hot mutton, a starch vegetable that resembles potatoes, and whatever green stalks the fields of Hoth produce. It is food, and food is good no matter what on an empty stomach. The day has been long and the roads tough, and Rey is grateful for the meal and the ale that washes it down her throat. 

She sits in the corner of the tavern, on the ground floor of the inn, a lantern lighting up her table and a sconce above her head. Finn has yet to return from the castle, though Rey is not particularly perturbed. The constant discord between the militant First Order and the Republic is a battle long on going, and the Queen holds the last independent foothold in the country; she will undoubtedly require Finn and his knowledge more than Rey will this evening. 

She has been looked at a few times and she can hear people whispering, but she cares not. Gossip spreads fast in any town, and it is likely they were expecting a warrior broad of shoulder and strong in arm, not a lithe young woman with skin the color of warm gold borne from years in the desert sun, with a face fine boned and freckled.

She rips into a loaf of bread, mopping up the gravy of her meat, and glances around the room as she chews.

Rey sees a man watching him from a table nearby. He is hooded and cloaked in dark garb, and though the lighting is abysmal, she can make out hair so dark it bleeds into the night, hanging in waves over his neck, and eyes that are sharp and piercing. He doesn’t turn away when Rey meets his gaze, as so many others have, but his eyes do drop languidly to the sword propped up at Rey’s side.

Rey, ever the opportunist, raises an eyebrow.

Moments later, the man approaches her table.

Rey looks up, taking another bite of her bread and chewing. He does not lower his hood, but she can see his features more clearly now. His face is unexpected. It is all sharp angles and pale skin, speckled with moles. His eyes are haunted and dark. Not just because they are almost completely black as they study her, but because of the secrets they seem to hold – the cruelties they have witnessed, lurking in their depths.

He watches Rey chew for a moment before sitting down uninvited across from her. 

Rey swallows her mouthful. "Hello," she says, amused. 

"May I?" His deep voice carries clearly across the open space and Rey feels goosebumps break out across her entire body. His request is one of useless formality, asked in a way that says he doesn’t generally do polite, and this is as good as it probably gets. Rey finds it funny nonetheless. She pushes her plate of bread and slop towards the middle of the table. 

"It's not much, but you may share it," she offers graciously. The man picks slowly at the half eaten bread. He is not poor, Rey can tell from the finer fabric of his shirt and the thick fur around his shoulders. His large, long fingered hands are not marked either, little in the way of scars or dirt. Nobleman’s hands, perhaps? Rey doesn’t usually have a lot of time for nobles.

"Your weapon intrigues me," says the man, and the timbre of his voice makes her shiver. Then, as if he’s taken a moment to consider it, says, "I am Ben." 

"I’ve heard that before,” she replies, hoping she looks unfazed. “I’m Rey.”

Ben doesn’t smile. "I know." 

Rey takes stock of him swiftly. With his impressive height and frame Rey is under no delusions that in hand to hand combat she’d be on the losing side. Though from what she can see he carries no visible weapons. A knife, perhaps, concealed on his person beneath his cloak, but nothing that she deems worth worrying about. As it is, this stranger is the only person to have spoken to Rey so candidly in some time, and it’s refreshing. 

Rey picks up her sword and lays it atop the table. Ben leans forward, studying the blue blade for a long moment before running a finger across the sharp edge. She watches intently, her eyes on Ben’s face as he examines her weapon. No one has ever dared touch her blade, and this stranger is behaving as if it were his own with the familiarity he touches it with. 

When his long fingers touch the leather bound hilt, he inhales sharply.

Rey jerks back, eyeing Ben with a new wariness. "You know of the Force?" she whispers curiously, shocked and pleasantly surprised to come across someone aware of the arcane art. 

Ben retracts his hand from examining her weapon. "I know of the Force, and the years it takes to learn." He offers a truce in the form of a half smile. "With a weapon like this I would not have taken you for a dragon-slayer, perhaps a war-maker?"

Rey grimaces. "You would be right to call it that a millennia ago." Rey’s weapon is from a collection of knights called Jedi, once used to protect the people, until a Civil War tore them apart. None survive now that Rey’s own mentor has passed. The Jedi and their history does not go forgotten in any of the realms, but history does get buried easily when there are more interesting tales of dragon slaying about. Then, Rey grins. "So you do know me?" 

Ben nods. “I do." He gestures around the tavern. "I would dare say most men do." He looks Rey over approvingly. "You shine brightly, Rey, particularly in a realm as dreary as this one."

While she may be proficient in dragon slaying, in the art of romance Rey knows she is lacking. However, she is worldly enough to know both the tone that Ben uses and the look in his eyes as he leans back in his chair, watching for her reaction. While Ben is confident, he carries his loneliness about him like the furs across his shoulders.. It appeals to Rey, greatly. 

"You are kind," she says softly in reply to Ben’s words. 

He looks surprised at her response. "You will come to find I am not."

"I doubt I will be around much longer to find out," she admits, and she realises she is upset by it. "Once the dragon is dead, I will take my leave."

"Is this the weapon you use to kill them?" Ben gestures at her sword.

Rey shifts. "Among other things."

"What makes you so sure you can kill it?" he asks thoughtfully.

Rey grins rueful and sharp. "Perhaps you do not know me as well as I thought," she says teasingly. "Not one beast has bested me yet." 

"You are here at the behest of the Queen?" 

"Yes." 

"Why do you not stay at the castle?" 

Rey shrugs, "I prefer to keep my own company." 

Ben lifts his chin, contemplative. "Not the company of another, then?" The wind roars outside and brings the promise of fresh snowfall. Ben smiles easily. "Not even on a night as cold as this one?"

Rey hums and finds herself answering honestly. “There have not been others before.”

Ben's grin is white teeth and stretched lips. "Good to know. What did she offer you in return for the dragon’s head?"

The turn of conversation throws Rey momentarily, and she shifts in her seat, for she can feel the slick wet gathering between her legs from the quick banter they have been sharing.

"Gold," she murmurs in Ben's direction, annoyed at the turn of the subject. For a moment, she had thought things were going someplace far more pleasant. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the idea that she has misread the situation.

"What else?" he presses, his voice sharp. 

Rey shoots him a frown. "You ask many questions, Ben." 

Ben shrugs. "I am curious." Rey is not accepting of that as an answer, and Ben sighs. "It is winter nine months of the twelve, here, and there is little to do short of hunting beasts, bed women, and waiting for interesting strangers to ride through town. Indulge me.”

"She promises gold, a higher sum than ever before," admits Rey. “I have hopes of making myself a home at some point.” How he knows that there is more to this story Rey cannot tell, but he waits silent and patient for her to continue. She regards him warily for a long moment before acquiescing. “They say this beast is borne of Snoke’s ilk.” Ben’s face shifts into a blank, unreadable expression at the mention of the First Order’s terrible leader. “If I were to kill it, it is said the tides will turn in favor of the Republic in the war; if this is true, then all this bloodshed may be at an end.”

Ben’s eyes brighten. "A high price indeed." He leans across the table, arm outstretched so that his hand lays near Rey’s own. "You had better hope you win the contest." 

Rey scowls. "I have told you, none have bested me yet." 

Ben smirks. "There is always a first time, Rey." The words ring familiar in Rey’s mind, but then Ben’s hand touches hers, and Rey jolts. It is nothing but the stroke of a finger against the back of her hand, but it has Rey’s breath coming quick. This whole conversation has been strangely arousing and provocative and now she is impatient.

"Say what you mean.” She grabs Ben’s hand in her own, fingers curling around the smooth skin of the other man’s wide wrist. "What is so different about this dragon to the others? Speak plainly, for I have heard the rumors already." 

"They say it is a terrible beast, with a hide like night so you may never see it coming." Ben’s voice has dropped and the air in the tavern between them feels thicker and heavier than before. "They all fear it," he continues in his trance-like tone. “It cannot be heard, for it attacks only when the storm is at its strongest, when the rain and sleet and snow marry together." Rey inhales, sharp and short. Ben leans forward. "They say that it is wicked, with eyes that know more than any beast should." 

He is so close now, Rey can feel his cool breath on her face.

"They say," whispers Ben, in a voice like silk, "that it is really a man." 

Rey hardly lets him finish as she closes the distance, her mouth hot and hard against his own. 

  
  
  
  
  


Ben is a delightful, unforeseen addition to Rey's evening, though he is ferocious in a way Rey had not expected. With her blade in one hand and Ben’s hand in the other, Rey had made haste to her rooms after dropping some coins on the table. Now, her sword lays in the corner of the small room while Ben has forgone his hooded cloak, sprawling back on the bed. Rey crawls into his lap, mouth on his as his tongue flicks insistently against her lips. 

"Let me in," breathes Ben, and Rey acquiesces, opening her mouth to allow Ben entrance. 

Theirs goes from an almost bruising kiss to something almost delicate as Ben’s hands stroke Rey’s cheeks and hair and neck and he presses himself bodily up against Rey’s chest. Their furs were discarded at the door, but Ben’s hands go from her neck to the ties of her shirt, loosening and tugging until he has pulled it over her head. 

His hands play across the expanse of golden skin he has uncovered, his mouth trailing down from Rey’s neck to kiss there, too. Rey follows the same courtesy regarding Ben’s shirt, and she is delighted at the smooth, pale skin that is bared before her. Ben has little hair on his body, and his tall build hides sinewy muscle and a hard stomach. His shoulders are broad and his body stronger than Rey had originally given him credit for. 

They twist, rolling on the bed, until Rey pulls away to undo her pants and struggle with her boots. She acts quickly, eager to touch Ben again, and when she finishes undressing it would seem Ben has been too quick for her in that aspect, as he lays undressed and waiting against the headboard. 

His cock is hard and shiny at the tip, and he opens his legs in a confident display, grinning at Rey’s wide eyes. "Come here," he beckons, his legs bending at the knee, wide and open and obscene. 

Rey is aware that she looks hesitant, but all that seems to do is spur Ben on more, his dark eyes glinting at her obvious apprehension as she eyes his cock. She moves to straddle him, slowly, her hands pressed to his chest to hold herself above him. Ben keens, hips lifting in an effort to make contact. 

"You are impressive," admits Rey, as she lowers her hand between Ben's thighs to grasp his cock, giving it a few soft strokes. He throbs in her hand. “And eager.”

"Well," says Ben, slightly breathless, "would you believe me if I said it’s been some time?”

Rey laughs. “No.” 

At this, Ben exercises his strength by rolling them until she is laid beneath him. His eyes roam her face as he palms her breast, thumb stroking over the nipple. Rey gasps at the unfamiliar touch, chest arching to chase Ben’s hand. His palm skates across her delicate collarbone to cup her neck, his fingertips brushing her jawline in a delicate touch that Rey is not expecting. His dark eyes meet hers, and then he kisses her, hot and hard, before she feels his fingers at her cunt. 

He strokes her and Rey cannot keep still. Ben puts his other hand on Rey’s stomach and presses down, holding her in place as she squirms, and Rey keens, mouth open and panting. Ben is leaking against his own stomach and Rey’s hip as he thrusts his fingers in and out, grinding his crotch into whatever friction he can get. 

Rey feels a strange sense of propriety over Ben, though she can’t say what, or why, exactly. All she can do is keep her gaze fixed on Ben’s as he works her over. 

After what feels like an eternity, where Ben has coaxed Rey to the edge a number of times before retreating, she grabs his arms and says, "Fill me.” 

Ben’s eyes are blown wide and dark. He surges up, his mouth finding Rey’s once more to chase away the words as he guides his cock into her. Rey breathes into his mouth at the movement, body going taut as he bottoms out; the push is slick and tight and it hurts due to his size. At the last, long inch, Rey groans, and Ben’s eyes flutter shut as they revel in the sensation. 

She shifts after a moment and Ben gives the tentative trial of the first thrust. Rey bursts into life once more below him, hips undulating as her leg comes up to catch on Ben’s hip, pulling him in deep. His arms wrap around Rey’s shoulders, fingers grappling for purchase in the skin, and Rey again admires the incredible strength that Ben possesses.

"Rey," breathes Ben into his ear, "come back to me." 

Rey realises she has lost herself in her thoughts and she allows himself to be drawn back into their heated love making. She meets Ben’s eyes, the intensity in them, and he rolls his shoulders and thrusts hard. Rey throws her head back and moans loudly. They set a rhythm like that, almost perfect, rough around the edges, a bit of hurt on every other thrust. 

Rey gets the feeling that Ben may have to watch his strength with other women, but with her he is free, and encouraged, to show his strength. Rey has no qualms about hiding hers, or being vocal in what she wants. 

"Is this what you wanted?" snarls Ben, hand strong on Rey’s hips as he thrusts. "How long have you been bereft? How long since have you been filled?" 

Rey groans, desperate, writhing beneath him like a snake. When she looks up he is grinning. She kisses the smirk off Ben’s face in the moment that comes next. He shifts his mouth from her lips, mouth dragging across her cheek to plant a kiss at the jaw before sinking his teeth into her neck. 

Rey howls, and Ben licks at the indented skin, but it does it’s job, and suddenly everything is harder and faster, spurred on by the excessive slick that her cunt produces. Ben is sweating, his brow warm, and he raises a hand to push his hair back off of his face. Rey lays beneath him and takes it, everything he has to give, body tired but pleased as they rock together. Her eyes flutter shut as she revels in the slick slide of his cock inside her. 

Ben is having none of that. "Come back to me," he says again, his lips on her throat. "Come back to me, Rey." He strokes Rey, hands all over her body and whispers encouragement into Rey’s skin, her hair, her mouth. "So beautiful, so strong," his lips brush the sweat from Rey’s brow. "Rey," he gasps her name; thrusts becoming deeper, more erratic. 

It doesn’t take much after that, Rey is done for, she can feel it. 

Ben knows, for he licks the shell of her ear and says, "come for me." 

Rey does, with a ravaged gasp as Ben’s hips stutter and he spills warmth inside her. 

He is softening, slowly, and his breathing regulating. She wishes suddenly that she has more to offer Ben, other than a tiny room at a cold inn, with little promise of tomorrow. Ben doesn’t seem to mind, he allows Rey to wipe his brow and brush the hair from his face with the look of someone who is used to being looked after; almost like royalty. He slips from her cunt, wet and warm, but makes no move to clean himself just yet. He lays an arm across the pillows so that Rey may choose to move closer to him should she wish. It takes a moment, a long one, and then Rey curls in, taking pleasure in playing patterns across the skin of Ben’s chest. 

Rey wonders if this is the type of future she has in store, years later, when there are no more dragons to slay. Will her days all end like this? Will they be as fulfilling as this one? She hopes so.

"You are always thinking,” says Ben into the space between them.

Rey smiles. "Thinking keeps me alive."

"Will it keep you alive tomorrow?" 

"I should hope so." 

Ben is silent for a moment. "You will die out there, Rey." 

She sits up with a frown, staring down at his solemn face. There is no threat to his words, only fact. "You are so sure," she says, quietly. 

"I am." 

"I will return, Ben." Rey stokes her lover's hair. "I have to, for now I have you to return to." 

Ben, for once, says nothing. 

  
  
  
  
  


In the morning Rey half expects Ben to be gone, a phantom from the night, but no, he is there, sprawled out in Rey’s bed as if he owns it. Rey grins and strokes Ben’s side, running her palm over his body and down between his legs, stroking his cock until he hardens for her once more, and then climbs atop Ben’s still frame. 

Ben wakes on the second sleep addled thrust with a groan, tilting his hips up and back to meet Rey’s thrusts. He pants and gasps Rey’s name and words of encouragement. Rey has more control like this, and it isn’t long until they are both gasping, Rey using Ben’s chest to hold herself steady as she moves, his hands a warm weight on her hips and then they’re coming together, groans intermixing as they fall back to the mattress. 

They spend the morning like that, in different positions, learning each other’s bodies and taking time that they didn’t think to take the night before. Ben finds the spot inside of her that makes her lose her voice, two fingers crooked inside as he grins wickedly. She sees the way he comes undone when she swallows his cock all the way to the root. Or the way he meets her eyes as he lays between her legs, mouthing at her cunt while she strokes his face reverently. 

It must come to an end, as all things do, and as noon draws near their love making comes to a finish. 

"We are filthy," says Rey, and they are. Sticky and cooling seed between them, the room smells like musk and sex. She looks at the empty bath in the corner of the room. "It will take some time, but we should clean." 

Ben, who is still lounging on the bed, looks from the bath to her. "You are right," he admits, "but time is precious." 

"Yes," agrees Rey with a grin, "since you’re so sure that I will die tonight." It is meant in good humor, but Ben does not laugh. Rey’s smile drops from her face, a look of confusion replacing it instead.

"The odds," says Ben, evenly, "are tied." He gets up from the bed, stretching languidly, before wandering over to the bath. He runs his fingers across the edge of the wooden bath and looks across at Rey, eyes searching. Rey isn’t sure what it is he is looking for, but he must be satisfied, for he smiles softly and licks his lips. 

"I’ll fetch someone to fill it," says Rey, looking to find her pants. 

“No,” argues Ben. “Allow me.” 

“It won’t fit both of us,” she warns him.

His smile borders on a leer when he looks back at her over his shoulder. "I'd much prefer to watch you bathe first." He grins. "I like to watch." 

  
  
  
  
  


Ben is true to his word, he watches her bathe, and Rey is grateful for the hot water that allows her to rest her tired body and work out the kink in her neck from the old, small bed. Ben fetches food from downstairs, breads and cheeses and dried meats, and they eat and talk while she lounges in the water. 

Rey is sure this may lead to another bout of activity, but Ben seems content to eat and chat, strangely enough. He asks Rey about her history, of Jakku and her travels and of course, of her dragon slaying. 

"Seven dragons," says Ben, but not in the reverent tone Rey is used to people saying it. 

"Yes," says Rey, carefully. She has learned quickly that Ben does not like it when she boasts of her killings, so if they wish to have a civil conversation on the matter, she must be modest. 

"One was a wyvern?” 

Rey nods. 

Ben hums and picks at their platter of food. "Do they all breathe fire?" the question is innocent enough, and one Rey has answered many times over. She thinks that perhaps, for all of Ben’s confidence and intelligence, he may not know a lot about dragons. What one doesn’t know, one fears, and perhaps this is why Ben bristles at the topic. 

"They do," says Rey, confidently, "it is their greatest weapon, their claws and teeth are sharp, and their hide is impenetrable, but their fire is what men fear most."

"Is that so?" queries Ben, softly. He hands Rey a piece of cheese. "How do you kill them then, if they are so strong." 

Rey pauses. The nature of her dragon slaying is not often discussed. "I too, have strengths they are unaware of." 

Ben nods. "Like your ancient blade?" 

"Yes," says Rey quickly, grateful for the easy answer, and the one she hadn’t thought of herself, "like my ancient blade."

  
  
  
  
  


The day bleeds on and the water in the bath cools, and so Rey starts to dress for her last audience with the Queen and her court before making her way into the hinterlands. Ben, also bathed and mostly dressed, has been downstairs and fixed Rey a small pack of food for the journey. 

"It is a long one," he says to Rey, softly, as she laces her boots. "He is seen flying East long into the distance, where the mountains grow so high they touch the sky." He raises a brow. "Impossible for a man to climb." 

Rey grunts. "What else do you know?" She is becoming irritated, now, for as grateful as she is for the bath and the food, it seems Ben has been holding onto vital information that would help her journey and possibly help keep her head. "This is no time for games, Ben, if you know more about the beast you must tell me." 

"Why?" demands Ben, his face suddenly hard, "why is killing dragons so important to you - why this dragon?"

"It’s my job." 

"It is more than that." 

"Why do you care?" 

"Am I not allowed to?" 

Rey scowls, turning her face away. "You are so frustrating, do you know that?" 

Ben shrugs. "I do." He looks out the window at the snow and the village and the sun, down at the people on the cobblestone streets. "You say that the death of this creature means the end of a decade-long war?" He fetches his own boots, begins putting them in. 

Rey hesitates. “The Queen and her commander put more stock in the beast’s intelligence than I would believe. It has a name, apparently; Kylo Ren.” Her eyes flicker to Ben, but his face is impassive. She shrugs. “I’ve yet to meet a dragon that works at the behest of a man." 

“Snoke,” spits Ben from between tight lips, passiveness receding “is hardly a man.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “I suppose you know of the First Order’s Supreme Leader, also?” She moves to grasp Ben’s chin in her hand, forcing him to face her. “Be honest with me. Do you know more than you let on, or do you just wish to tease me?” She tries to read him, her eyes skimming his face, but the depths of his molten eyes hold little in the way of answers. Rey sighs sadly. “If it’s true, I could help end a war.” 

"And this," asks Ben, as if he is unsure, "this piece of politics is what you find most important?" 

Rey stares at him quizzically. “Of course.”

Ben looks at Rey for a long, full moment, before nodding and straightening up. Her hand falls from his chin as he moves away from her. "The journey will be a long one for you, and no man has been to the top of those mountains where he lives. It is colder there, colder than anything you have ever felt, and the cold can make a man go mad - he will see things that are not there, talk to voices only he hears. If you make it further, if you reach your goal…" Ben trails off, shrugging as he gathers the last of his things. "Who knows who will best the other." 

He stands close to Rey, a hand around her neck to pull her forward into the most urgent kiss they have shared yet. There is a desperation to Ben’s touch that Rey cannot place, though she wishes she could. She tries to kiss Ben back the same way, but knows that she’s probably failing. He seems to appreciate the effort regardless.

"I would tell you to come back to me," says Ben softly, his dark eyes wide and searching, "but if you come back, I will not be here." 

Rey's questions die in her mouth as Ben kisses her again, and then the door is opening and he is gone, and Rey is left alone to prepare for the evening ahead. 

  
  
  
  
  


Her meeting with the Queen is somber. Leia looks aged as they near the end of the discussion, and she presses a kiss to the crown of Rey’s head as they draw to a close. Rey accepts the blessing, her eyes suddenly wet from this queen’s maternal gesture. 

“I shall not fail you,” she murmurs as Leia withdraws. 

“My child,” says Leia with a strange, sad smile, “nothing is impossible.” 

When it comes to Finn, Rey is used to him traveling with her to the city edges. This time, he seems apprehensive. “You won’t be coming,” deduces Rey quietly, when his eyes shift to the map splayed out in the middle of the war room. Chewbacca, the Queen’s stalwart guardian, is studiously moving playing pieces and becoming frustrated at their placements. To his side, an aged advisor in golden robes is chattering away - oblivious to the idea that Chewbacca isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to him. The First Order has taken most of the land and they are closing in fast on the last remaining stronghold of Hoth; there are few places left to call sanctuary. 

Finn fixes her with a steady gaze. “I’d follow you anywhere, Rey, you know that.” 

Rey nods. “I do, but they need you here now.” She slides a sidelong glance at Poe Dameron who is trying, and failing to not stare at their exchange. Finn’s eyes follow her own line of sight and he flushes. Rey pieces together the puzzle quickly. “I believe you’ll be well taken care of, in my absence,” she says teasingly. 

Poe approaches them then, his hand resting lightly on Finn’s shoulder. “We look forward to your return,” he says solemnly. He eyes Rey and her lone blade curiously. “Do you plan to chase the dragon on foot?” 

She shrugs. “I always have done.” 

Poe shakes his head. “You’ll need your strength. Take my horse, he won’t let you down.” Poe leads them out to the stables where his paint gelding is housed. It munches lazily on a hay net and raises its head to look at them as they approach. Rey stokes a hand down the animal’s flank and lingers at the branding on its hindquarters. BB8. 

“What is this?” she asks, fingers tracing the mark. 

Poe shrugs, “he was like that when I found him. He’s resilient and intuitive. I’d like very much if you both make it back in one piece.” 

Rey adjusts the stirrups before swinging herself up into the saddle. “I’ll do my best.” She smiles gratefully down at Poe. “Thank you.” 

  
  
  
  
  


It doesn’t take long to cross the hinterlands on horseback and Rey surmises that she will reach the mountain tops by dusk at this pace. Poe’s horse has a brisk, easy gait to him, and he picks his way across the snow laden fields with familiarity. Rey lets him do most of the navigation, for he seems to know where the best paths are beneath the layer of snowfall. 

Some time later when they have crossed the fields and are making their way through the forest at the base of the mountains the temperature drops, the air around them cooling rapidly as they approach late afternoon. Beneath her Poe’s horse gives an unhappy wicker and a shake. 

“There,” says Rey, comfortingly, and lays a hand on the gelding’s large neck. “It’ll be over soon.” Rey isn’t sure of the meaning herself, but the thought of returning, to a warm bed, a tank of ale, and a man in her bed - well that makes things a little less bleak. As if understanding, her horse tosses his head and continues on the path towards the hills.

  
  
  
  


Poe had been right; his horse has led her as far as it can by way of trails and rocky mountain slopes, but when the steep, sloping gravel beneath his hooves makes his gait shaky and his sides foam from exertion, Rey acquiesces to the end of their brief companionship.

“I won’t tie you,” she says gently as she slides from the saddle, “who knows if I’ll make it back.” She strokes his thick neck as he nibbles at her hair. “Here,” she reaches into her pack and undoes the bundle of food Ben had packed for her, holding out an apple in the palm of her hand. BB munches into it happily, devouring it in three short bites. When she turns him loose he doesn’t leave. He watches her, unsure, as she starts climbing further before trying to follow, but he can’t find purchase on the ground.

Rey blinks back unexpected tears as he whinnies, and does not look back. 

  
  
  
  
  


The air is thinner here, near the peaks, and Rey struggles as she tries to breathe regularly. Eventually, when she feels her body falter, she reaches out to the force; bolstering her lungs and evening her breathing. She calls on it to give her the strength she needs to reach for the next crag and hoist herself up. Dusk will be on them soon, and the swirling of thick, grey clouds above is heavy with the promise of another storm. 

Finally, when Rey’s muscles are protesting and the air is chilling her to the bone, she hauls herself up the last crag and onto a ledge. She lays there for a moment to catch her breath and then gets to her feet. The light is low and the air still and thin. Peering past the cliff’s edge, she can see a cave further up; she surmises this has to be the dragon’s home. The cavernous opening is huge, as wide as it is high, with depths the color of ink - unease starts curling low in her gut. 

Rey takes a deep breath before reaching out with the force, searching for life forms. She finds it, a broiling, uncontrollable energy that feels barbed and jagged and pained. She cannot pinpoint the location, but it’s here at the cliff tops, malevolent and twisting around her. She retreats, unsure, to take stock of herself and surroundings. An injury perhaps? That will work in her favor if the beast is already hurting, it may give her an opening if it is slowed or weak. She unsheathes her blade and takes a few practise swings to warm herself. 

“Hello,” says a voice, and Rey turns, unbelieving. The voice, with its familiar timbre is as she fears; Ben’s. The breeze whips his dark hair about his shoulders; he looks beautiful. Rey notices with growing alarm that he is unarmed and without the warmth of his furs. 

“What are you doing here?” she strides forward, her hand outstretched, but Ben takes a single step back. Rey pauses, confused. “Did you follow me? _Ben_ \- you must leave.” She looks up at the mouth of the cave with growing concern, and then at the aggressive storm closing in from above. “Ben,” she turns back to him, pleading.

Ben’s smile is tight and pained. “I told you I would be here.” 

Rey stares at him in confusion.”No, Ben -” and then, suddenly, horribly, his words make sense. Rey feels her chest constrict. “ _No_.” 

Ben shrugs. Although his face is impassive, his eyes are indescribably sad. “Not long before my father died,” he says. “That’s when it happened; I had heard the calling my whole life, I’d thought I was losing my mind. I wasn’t. I had a gift, and Snoke was the only one who knew what was happening to me. I could never control it, it would overcome me at random but then - then Snoke changed that. I turn, always at the new moon, but other than that.” He looks away. “It’s at my choice.”

Rey hates that her lower lip trembles. “So you chose to kill all those innocent people? You chose to stand by the First Order as they destroyed-” 

“You know nothing of the First Order,” spits Ben, “or what my life is. I owe Snoke. He gave me this freedom.” 

Rey clenches her fists at her sides. “You killed your father.” 

“I had to,” his voice is imploring, almost desperate. “I had to, to control the changes. Snoke said it was imperative and now -” 

“Stop.” Her own voice is torn and broken and she hates it. 

“Please,” he says, “Rey -” It’s as if he’s seeking to make her understand, for her to believe him. 

“No.” She cuts him off, sharp as flint. “I will hear no more from you.” 

Ben’s pleading, pained expression shifts into something dark and flat. He tips his head towards the slowly sinking sun. “Then you’ll see what I mean when I say you can’t defeat me like this. I am Kylo Ren, and I’ll only ask one last time.” He reaches out to her, his open palm waiting in the space between them. “Take my hand, Rey.” 

For a moment, she almost does. 

“No.” Her chest hurts.

He regards her plaintively. “The only chance you had to kill me was last night, while I was human, and you bedded me instead. You could try right now, I suppose." He makes a show of opening his arms to her, as if she might strike at his broad chest. "You have a moment or two left to live.”

Rey’s hand closes over the hilt of her sword “No,” she says again. “It’s not possible.” 

Ben’s eyes have gone cruel and dead, and a moment later, there’s a red glow to them. “Remember you came here to kill me, Rey,” he says, and the red of his eyes burns brighter than before. 

Time passes strangely in the following moments. Everything happens slowly, so agonizingly slow that it’s impossible to tell if they ever really passed at all - and then they’re over so quickly Rey’s brain can hardly process what she’s witnessing. As the last of the sun disappears behind the craggy mountaintops, Ben’s body seems to warp and distort. His mouth opens in a wordless, pained scream as he throws his head back, his eyes wide and red and unblinking. Rey almost sobs, the desire to run to him and to aid him warring with the flee mentality of her natural instincts. If possible there seems to be another drop in temperature, a feeling as if all the air around her is being sucked into a gravity well with him at its core

Ben takes a staggered step back and there’s a sickening crack as his femur breaks and is healed in new shape; his body expanding and growing before her. Now, Rey’s sob is real and she is crying, tears hot on her cold cheeks as the wind picks up around them and the skies slowly let loose their weight in the rain. Wind whips so harshly against her face she is forced to shield her eyes for a moment. 

When she lowers her arm she realises that everything she’s heard has been true; this is the largest dragon she has ever seen. In all honesty, it is likely the largest Rey has ever even heard of, since the time of the great dragons generations before her, when Jedi were more than just a myth. The wingspan is wide and heavy, buffeting freezing gusts that make her feet slide for purchase on the ledge. She grits her teeth and calls the force to her, adding weight to her grip as she crouches low. He is black as night, his body blending into the sky above him save for the reddish tinge glinting off his huge hide. 

Rey meets his eyes and feels her heart break; although slanted and large and rimmed in red, they are still Ben’s eyes. 

“I don’t want to do this!” she shouts up at him, for all good it will do. He hangs there in the sky, beautiful in his own right, long and majestic, his leathery wings sweeping slowly to keep him airborne. His talons are huge, so large Rey finds fear gnawing further into her stomach. “Ben,” she calls again, her words almost drowning in the wind, “please.” 

_You still want to kill me._

The words are not spoken out loud, Rey knows this for she is staring straight at him, and his giant maw remains closed while the words curl inside her mind. She clutches frantically at her head, her eyes widening as she stares up at him, slack jawed. Rey has never put much stock in rumor, but she’s finding her conversion to believing happening incredibly swift. 

His eyes are boring into hers, a molten depth that she cannot break away from.

_You are so lonely_ , he says into her mind, and Rey feels sorrow clutch at her chest. 

Her sword arm lowers. She is, she has been for so long, and she had thought - Rey wipes furiously at the tears leaking from her eyes, and when she looks up she is surprised to see him lowering himself to the edge of the ledge, his hind legs supporting his weight as the talons carve deep grooves into the cliff edge. 

She realises with dawning horror that she is rooted to the spot by no will of her own. Ben is strong with the force, his abilities to harness the arcane well concealed up until this very moment. Tears stream down her face as she resists. She tries to break free, but can't budge. He had lied to her about everything, even his ability with the force; the strange proprietary connection she had felt with him feels cheapened now, a mimicry of the secret, special moment she had felt when they’d come together last night. It feels like another betrayal to Rey; another thing he has hidden from her when she so freely gave him all of her last night.

_I saw it last night, you’re so desperate to sleep; you imagine an ocean._

Rey scowls at him. “Get out of my head.” 

His long, serpentine face bears down on her. _You know I can take whatever I want._

“I’m not giving you anything!” 

_Then you will die._

He opens his giant maw to reveal layers of sharp, glinting teeth, and descends on her. In that moment his mental hold on her is weakened, and Rey grips her sword and slants it before her. Here lies his weakness, for as the depths of his chest spasm with the beginning of his flaming breath, he does not know that the flames will be inconsequential against her blade. 

Except, for the second time tonight, it is she who is surprised 

It is not fire that he unleashes from his maw, but a torrent of arctic, freezing ice. Rey, unprepared for this, barely makes it out of the way with a body roll that leaves her bruised and scrambling for purchase. Behind her, his ice breath eats into the cliff face and carves out a chunk of stone. Shaken, Rey thinks back to last night - “do they all breathe fire?” he had asked her so nonchalantly, and she reprimands herself by how cockily and sure she had answered.

In an almost chivalrous fashion, he allows her a moment to get her bearings. Rey shoots him a fowl look. When she meets his gaze she finds him watching her intensely. She stops moving, caught in his stare as he grapples for purchase in her mind and then - Rey recognises the look in his eyes as she wars with him, his confidence melting away as he is slammed up against a barrier in her mind. With a great sweep of his wings he retreats back, lifting up into the air and looking less certain of her and her strength. Rey steps forward even though her feet feel like lead. His confidence wavers by the moment at her progression, and then suddenly, the ferocity of their confrontation builds until it hits critical mass.

For a moment she feels as if she is drowning. His mind is a murky maelstrom of anger, pain, and most shockingly - betrayal. They manifest almost physically, sharp and barbed like his talons and teeth; an outcast from his own people, ashamed of by his own family, turned on by Rey. His father - Rey sees flashes of the King’s death, a man with a crooked smile clutching at Ben’s shoulders, even as the skin on his son’s arms turns to scale and talons emerge, ripping through flesh. She sees his mother, Leia, her smile warm as she cradles her son’s face -

Rey rips herself from the duel. “She thinks you are dead,” she shouts at him, “Leia - Ben she loves you. She sent me here because she thinks the dragon killed her husband and her son. Ben, you could come home.” 

_LIES._

He is vibrating with rage, malice twisting and turning as he dives at her from out of the sky. Rey launches herself at him the moment he gets close enough to her, the irregular length of her blade whistling as it cuts through air, and then, through scale and flesh. His huge shoulder sends her flying when he hits her with it, but the roar he unleashes is a scream of agony.

Rey looks down at the iridescent blue of her blade and sees it wet with blood. 

He is blinking blood out of his eye. Her strike has carved open a thick gash from his face to his neck, and the wound is slow to heal, given as such by a Jedi blade. Rey expects for this to be the final straw; that now he will surely kill her, such is the way he watches her from the other side of the ledge. He rises slowly, his heated blood dripping from his and onto the ground with a sharp hiss. He rushes at her unexpectedly, a serpentine arrow that shocks her and knocks her again to the ground. Her grip loosens on her sword as her palms open to catch her fall. She rolls to her side in time to see his huge, clawed fore-paw clutch around her blade. 

Unarmed, Rey leans back on her arms as his long face hovers above hers. 

_I would see you suffer._

She hesitates, unsure of his meaning, before he takes off into the sky - and away from her. 

It only takes a moment for her to realise where he is headed. “No!” she screams after him, “Ben!” But he is already far from her, his huge wings covering distances far quicker than she could even dream of as he heads towards Hoth. 

  
  
  
  
  


It takes Rey less time to get down the cliff face; mainly because she spends most of it slipping and sliding where she can, rock cutting into her skin and scratching her face as she carelessly tries to reach the bottom. There is no way she will make it to the village in time - Ben will have wreaked havoc, if not destroyed, the entire township by the time she arrives; and it will be her fault.

She is freezing cold. It hasn’t yet crossed into the darkest part of night, though it is close, when she finally makes it to the bottom of the mountain. Her teeth are rattling terribly, and her clothes are dirty and torn. She takes a moment to tend to the aches and pains of her body; the ones that are causing grief if she continues on like this, and then rubs her arms to promote circulation and some warmth. 

As Rey reaches the treeline of the forest, she is astonished to see Poe’s horse emerge from the shadows. “Good boy,” Rey flings her arms around the animal’s neck, pressing her cheek into his warmth for a brief moment. She pats his flank and then climbs onto the horse’s back, squeezing her calves firmly around his body, to start on their way. 

  
  
  
  
  


It is well and truly midnight when she spots the township in the distance. As if Poe’s horse has sensed her urgency and desperation he has run at a steady gallop through the night. Any other time she would have slowed, allowed him to walk the rest of the way, but they are close, and so she stays low to his back and presses him on; even as his sides heave and he begins to stumble. 

The fields that blur past them are frozen by jagged, gleaming ice, signs of Ben’s - Kylo Ren’s - wrath as he’s descended. When they finally reach the arching entrance to the city, Rey is hardly surprised to find it destroyed; icicles hanging from the remnants of the stone. She dismounts here, pressing her forehead to her heaving horse’s sweaty one. “Stay safe,” she murmurs, running her hand down his shaking flank. 

The village is deathly silent; no trace of its people nor a dragon. She picks her way past ice boulders and debris from destroyed buildings. The town will never recover, or at least not for a very long time; if Snoke moves in now he will surely be able to take the last of the Republic’s land with ease. 

Gently, Rey reaches out with the force. 

There is only one life-form that she can detect, and it is in the castle. 

  
  
  
  
  


Ben is waiting for her in the throne room. 

She isn’t sure what she had expected; for him to be sitting on his father’s throne, to be surrounded by a pile of bodies? She is met with neither of those things; Ben is merely standing off to the side in his human skin, waiting. His face has mostly healed, though an angry, red scar remains from her blade, sectioning his face. When they meet each other's eyes Rey once again feels that strange, proprietary claim over him. She breaks his gaze to look around the room for Finn, for Poe - for anyone. 

She reaches with the force and feels nothing. 

“Ben,” she implores, stricken. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I wanted to see you suffer the way I have suffered.” Fury wells within her; blind, uncontrollable rage at his disregard for human life, but it is quelled just as quickly when he says, “but I couldn’t. I can’t see you hurt, Rey.” 

Ben’s hair, all that beautiful, dark hair hangs limp and damp around his face. There is an open, honest vulnerability in his wide eyes, and he grips the sword as if to defend himself with it, but Rey stays him with a hand. 

Slowly, her mouth working around the words, she tells him the honest truth. “I did want to take your hand - Ben’s hand.” She doesn’t need the force to feel his unbridled surprise, and hope, at her admission. 

He stares at her for several long moments, and then drops her sword to the ground. It’s clatter echoes loudly in the empty throne room. 

“That belonged to my uncle,” he tells her, his eyes flickering to the fallen weapon and back to her. “His name was Luke. He was your master.” Rey wonders if she should be more surprised at this revelation; that her late master, the former Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, is kin to the Organa-Solo family, but she has seen so much in the last day and night that nothing seems to come as a surprise at the moment. “He tried to train me,” continues Ben, “but he failed. Snoke’s influence was too strong.” He looks fleetingly at Han Solo’s empty throne. “I can see now that I was not meant for either my father or the First Order.”

Rey swallows. “You could stay,” she says cautiously. She wants him to stay. 

Ben’s laugh is hollow. “You tried to kill me.” 

“Well,” spits Rey, affronted, “you tried to kill me. A score settled, I think.”

He shakes his head. “You know now both who I am and what I am. You would kill me in my sleep.” 

“I wouldn’t,” protests Rey, but even she can hear the doubt in her voice. Ben’s knowing look almost makes her feel ashamed. “If I had known,” she says. “You should have told me.”

“I did tell you,” seethes Ben. “I said if you slew the dragon, I wouldn’t be here when you got back.” It stings. Rey prepares to yell back, but Ben steps closer, his broad shoulders shaking. “Last night – I told you. I told you what I was, and you reached for your weapon. You made your choice.” 

Rey scowls. “You made yours when you killed in the name of the First Order.” 

Ben inhales sharply and moves to stride past her. At the last moment he stops, shoulder to shoulder, but he keeps his gaze fixed ahead, no matter how badly Rey wishes he would look at her. “Your friends still live,” he says after a long moment. The words are tight and clipped. “They fled to the neighbouring forest of Ajan Kloss; I did not pursue them.” 

“Thank you,” breathes Rey. 

She waits until his footsteps have receded and the great doors have closed behind him before she sinks to the ground and weeps. 

  
  
  
  
  


Rey finds Poe’s horse eating the last vestiges of a stable’s hay. BB wickers gently at the sight of her, and she rubs him down and waters him before leading him slowly by the reins to the edge of town. He is exhausted from the run and so she walks beside him, slow and easy, until the morning light rises in shifting throws across the hills. They reach the forest of Ajan Kloss, and the makeshift camp of what is left of the Republic peoples with little fanfare just before midday. 

Rey is spent. Her body aches and the sword on her back feels heavier than ever before. A stable hand from the castle recognises Poe’s horse and calls out, creating a small ruckus from which Finn and a sharp eyes girl with raven hair emerge - curious and elated when they see it is Rey. 

“I need to talk to Leia,” murmurs Rey into the crook of Finn’s neck as he hugs her tight. He introduces her to his companion, Rose, and then they make their way to the back of the camp where the Queen has set up her temporary station. 

It’s a sordid affair, and Rey says nothing at first, her eyes brimming with tears as she tries to find the right words. Leia, in another of her maternal gestures, pulls her close and doesn’t let go for a long moment. Eventually, when Rey has composed herself to be able to tell the story of what happened on the mountain top, and in the throne room, Leia does not look surprised. 

“You knew.” Rey tries to tamper down the distrust and betrayal that flares to life at Leia’s mournful look. “You sent me to kill your son -” 

“I sent you to save us,” Leia’s tone is firm and her eyes imploring. “I thought that maybe you could save him too.”

Rey deflates. “I certainly could not kill him.” 

Leia strokes a warm palm against Rey’s cheek. “You did all that you could. Thank you, Rey.” 

  
  
  
  
  


A month later and they come to be known as the Resistance - the last faction on the continent standing against the First Order. There is a shift in the tide of the great war, and they say it is because the great dragon, Kylo Ren, no longer stands with the First Order; that the beast turned on his master and killed him. 

Supreme Leader Snoke is dead.

Some say that the beast is slain, others say he is in hiding; but Rey knows better. The connection that she shares with Ben, while not as strong as it was, lingers in the outskirts of her mind. She catches flashes, mountain tops, oceans, lands she hasn’t seen before. She knows she is seeing glimpses through Ben’s eyes. She wonders what he sees through hers. The moments are rare and sporadic, she cannot control them nor can she be rid of them. She does not speak of their bond to anyone, not even Finn. 

The Resistance is too caught up in merriment, a glimmer of hope cresting on the horizon at the fall of Snoke. 

Their reprieve is short lived.

A great evil emerges from the ashes of Snoke’s reign; an evil that has been there all along. They realise that Snoke is a pawn in another’s game - and Leia and the Resistance are desperate to put an end to the terror this new conqueror will bring. Their numbers grow, more and more, as the militant ways of the First Order cause starvation and poverty across the lands, and people from all over the continent seek reprieve. Leia welcomes them all, though their own supplies grow thin. 

In the meantime, Rey is called upon to slay another dragon. A lithe, sharp eyed landowner in a neighbouring township meets her one crisp morning. 

“How many people has your dragon killed?” she asks.

“None that I know; it takes our livestock, my sheep and cattle.” 

Rey smiles bitterly. “Consider yourself lucky,” she says, and refuses the job. 

Over the coming months, Rey becomes more a soldier of battle than a dragon slayer. She rides at the forefront of the Resistance’s forces to meet the First Order in battle, the iridescent blue of her blade sung into folklore as she carves into her enemies with it. The people look to her for hope, but few look to her for dragon slaying. Rey will not kill a dragon that does not kill people. 

She wonders, one night, as she lies under the stars and feels the temperature drop in the air around her, if Ben has heard the tales; if he understands what they mean. She considers searching for him in the force, not for the first (and certainly not for the last) time, but convinces herself not to, instead she tries to remember what Ben smelled like, but all she can remember is ice, and the cold snap of wind.

  
  
  
  
  


Time passes, and Rey is sent to Kef Bir to obtain battle plans the First Order is rumored to be hiding. There is a township, a forgotten castle once where it is said the spies of the First Order convene to exchange battle strategies and intelligence. 

The journey is a long one, all the way to the ocean edges, and she is accompanied by Finn and Poe. Their trio has long since solidified to permanence, and she has almost forgotten what being alone had ever felt like when they ride abreast and share tales of misadventures. 

When they reach the shores of Kef Bir Rey is taken back by how startlingly cold it is. The waves crash upon the beach in huge, cresting barrels and the wind whips at them, stealing their words as they try to speak. Rey finds herself yelling to be heard, until eventually they find shelter in a thicket not far from the shoreline, just over a bank. Poe works quickly to light a fire, and Rey and Finn map out where best to take the upcoming castle.

They decide to pursue their journey in the morning - better to be well rested to face a potential battle - and after they share a meal of dried meats and fruits, they take to their beds and try their best to sleep through the howling wind. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Rey wakes to moonlight. 

So low is the temperature she finds herself shivering, tugging her woolen blanket around her best she can for warmth. It’s that strange time between night and morning, where even the silence seems loud for lack of crickets or birds. The water at the shoreline crashes distantly, and Rey sits up, the force tugging at her weakly. 

She blinks, and her vision is overlaid with stars, a sight not her own, and the smell of salt and brine. Water splashes at her, but when Rey reaches down to touch her arms they are dry. 

She is careful not to wake Poe and Finn as she picks up her sword, slipping from their camp undetected to wander down to the water’s edge. Dark is the night, but the full moon hangs low and heavy in the sky, wisps of cloud doing little to obscure it. 

In the distance beyond the waves, a serpentine shape coils through the air. 

Rey’s breath catches in her throat, and slowly, with all the aches and pains of moving an injured limb, does she reach out with her mind. 

_Rey_. 

His voice, a deep and familiar warmth despite it’s surprise, almost brings her to her knees. She digs her heels into the sand, content to keep their connection open as he sweeps closer to her, until eventually his massive wingspan rises with the crest of a wave and his clawed back legs spray water onto the shore while he brings himself up short. Wind buffets her with every sweep of his massive, leathery wings as he suspends himself in the air, looking down his long face at her. 

Rey glances past him to the waning moon. “It will be dawn soon.” She makes a show of getting comfortable on the sand. “I’ll wait.” 

Ben huffs and curls away, taking to the skies and disappearing into the night. 

Rey, true to her word, sits in the cold sand long through the night, and finally, when the sky turns to pink, he returns. He drops to the ground gracefully, but the sheer size of him makes the earth tremble. His shift from dragon to human seems less painful than the other way around, and when the change is over he stands before her in his human form, unabashed by his nakedness. In the flesh after months of scattered memories she thinks it strange that he looks more or less the same. She'd expected hardened features, menacing eyes, a cold sneer. Instead his face is almost beautifully feral like this in the dawn, and he looks cautious, but neither angry nor sad.

What she sees is the face of the man who had held her tightly one night, a long time ago, and made her feel safer than she had ever felt before. 

She draws her sword, anyway. The iridescent blue blade glitters in the morning air that carries the bitterness of salt from the surrounding waters, its reflection glinting in his dark eyes as he moves closer.

"Unnecessary," he says softly. It irks Rey to think he sounds vaguely amused, like he finds it laughable that she believes he would come here to hurt her. In contrast to this confident display, his footsteps are careful and slow as he steps toward her; like one might approach a wounded animal.

“It’s been some time,” she tells him, her chin raised slightly in habitual defiance 

He narrows his eyes at her, searching - for what, she isn’t sure.

There is a beat of silence, punctuated by the distant roar of the tide.

“It has,” he concedes slowly. 

Admittedly, she tells herself it’s incredibly stupid to think that everything has changed; that just because he’s looking at her in that gentle way reminiscent of lips on her throat and hands in her hair - she tears her gaze from his to study the sand beneath her feet, drawing gravity to her. 

She swallows thickly. “They say that the great dragon, Kylo Ren, no longer fights for the First Order.” 

He scowls, looking at her only slightly derisively. “He grew tired of having a master.” He eyes her up and down scathingly. “They say that the great dragon slayer no longer slays dragons - even for a heavy purse.” 

Rey worries at her lower lip. “She found a dragon she cared for; very much.” 

Ben looks hopeful, briefly, and then shocked, and then smug, all within the span of a few seconds, expression after expression chasing themselves across his face. “What would have you believe he cares for you?” 

“Does he?” counters Rey boldly. 

This time he is silent for a long while, and then he takes one step toward her, and then another. Although she stands rimrod straight with her sword between them, she does not move away. "I don't want to be to you what Snoke was to me," he admits. "I think of nothing but you by my side, for whatever battles or futures we have ahead; but if the only way to have you is by force; then I do not want it, Rey..." He stops walking. He's close enough to her that she can reach out and touch him; if she wants. "I would have you Rey, as you are," he whispers hoarsely, bowing his head so that the tip of his nose almost brushes against hers. "But would you have me?"

When she presses her mouth to his Rey feels her world shift. Ben takes her face in his hands and steals her breath, though their kiss is as light as a feather; experimental, to see if who they are now has any connection to who they were then. It would appear that there is.

  
Their second kiss is rushed, harried, picking up from where the first left off, Ben licking into her mouth to elicit little sounds from her throat. She drops her sword, too eager to feel the thick, inky strands of his hair beneath her fingertips. She presses herself against him, her clothing a thin barrier to the expanse of all his pale, beautiful skin. Ben’s hands clutch at her like she might disappear, so firm he might leave bruises. 

They part, only because air is a necessity, and when they come together again his tongue dips gently between her lips, hesitant again, as if testing to see if a moment’s reprieve will make her break away. When Rey responds with nothing but enthusiasm he is emboldened, sweeping in bold strokes. After a long moment of these slow, languorous kisses, they pull apart again. Ben’s hair is disheveled and his lips are delightfully swollen; Rey thinks she must look a sight herself. 

“Why are you here?” he asks finally, as if suddenly remembering this strange meeting. He looks slightly dazed, still, as if he can’t quite believe what is happening to him. It’s pleasantly endearing, and Rey leans forward to steal another, quick kiss. 

She relays to him briefly about their intelligence and their hopes of stealing the First Order’s battle plans; the map to where their final foe lays in wait. She tells him of her plan to kill him - to end this once and for all. 

Ben considers this. “What would you have me do?” 

Rey thinks about how much harder her journey will be now; terror grips at her for the mere thought of losing Ben again, after all this time. 

“We face this last battle,” she tells him; gaze locked on his. “Together.” She can see the trepidation lurking behind his eyes, and she strokes his face softly. 

“Nothing is impossible,” he drawls. There is a sardonic tinge of humor to his voice, and Rey barks out a sudden, sharp laugh as she recognises Leia’s words on Ben’s tongue. If he’s curious about her outburst he doesn’t show it, choosing instead to reach for her hand and press his warm lips to her knuckles. “We will return, Rey,” he says solemnly. “For now we have each other to return to.”

She smiles, lacing her fingers in his. “Yes, we do.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> what even is this? purely self-indulgent, that's for sure. christ, could you call this a fairy tale, is that what i'm writing now? what was originally 3k of weredragon porn turned into this thing with like, kinda actual plot. gotta say, it's hard to world-build on a world that is incredibly original, so there was a lot of creative license used here. thank you for sticking around if you made it this far! x


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